Keeping a Promise: A Day Of Eternity
by Lanx Borealis
Summary: A rewrite of the first chapter of my old fic "Keeping A Promise." After the death of his wayward apprentice, Nicholas Flamel, Edward Elric promises to protect Harry Potter, the child who saved the Sorcerer's Stone. However, when writing in blood starts appearing on the walls of Hogwarts, Edward must prevent a repeat of the tragedy 50 years ago. Complete. Crossposted to AO3.


**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA or HP. Obviously.**

 **Wow I haven't posted anything in a long time since I rarely write fanfiction anymore. However, a while back I wanted to do a challenge where I take one of my oldest pieces of writing and rewrite it to see how far I have come. Likewise, since I recently rewatched FMA (and am reading the manga...) and since all my older pieces of writing are actually illegible due to pencil fading and my horrible chicken scratch, I figured the first chapter of _Keeping a Promise_ would be the best to use. **

**I originally wasn't planning on posting this as it... doesn't really add any new content and I feel it's kinda mean for me to do so? I dunno I feel super awkward 'cause I handed KaP so _poorly_ like. I dunno. I am really indecisive and change my mind a lot and have no idea what I am doing. I don't wanna be too annoying going back and forth on KaP like I did before. 'Cause I feel I did that a _lot_ with KaP and I hate. Disappointing people? Hm. **

**I honestly hate that I bit off more than I could chew. I kinda wish I had at least wrote out a semblance of a summary as to what would have happened in the series if I had written it to at least have some closure? Oh well.**

 **Either way, here's a rewrite of the first chapter for Keeping A Promise! I hope it is very different and those who have read KaP... I hope this is... better...**

 **Also, for the record, since this is a rewrite of the first chapter, I HIGHLY recommend actually reading (at least) the first chapter of KaP before this. I wrote this mainly for comparison and to explore how my writing has evolved. This is best read side-by-side with the original chapter for sure.**

~~0~~0~~0~~

 **Keeping a Promise: A Day of Eternity**

By: Lanx Borealis

~~0~~0~~0~~

 _High up in the North in the land called Svithjod, there stands a rock. It is a hundred miles high and a hundred miles wide. Once every thousand years, a little bird comes to this rock to sharpen its beak._

 _When the rock has thus been worn away, then a single day of eternity will have gone by._

~~0~~0~~0~~

A soft, yet sharp _tap, tap, tap_ rattled the window across the room. Though the first couple of taps did nothing to garner the attention of a young-looking man sitting hunched over his desk, after a few more insistent taps, his head shot up.

"Would you _mind?"_ the young-looking man growled. He stabbed his pen hard into his desk, poking a hole through his papers. He shook his head and tossed his pen down.

 _Tap, tap, tap!_

That lead had been a dead end, anyway. He shoved the papers off the desk and onto the already cluttered ground.

The young-looking man glanced behind himself. A graying barn owl had perched itself on the sill. It continued to peck the glass without pause.

 _Tap, tap, tap!_

Though now that the owl's beady eyes met the bright gold eyes of the young-looking man, each _tap!_ grew harder, and the time between each one shortened.

 _Taptaptaptap!_

The young-looking man shook his head. "Another fucking owl. Gotta say I'm actually a little surprised. Haven't seen one of _you_ pests in fifty years! And I wanted it to keep it that way! But you had to ruin that, didn't you?" The young-looking man pointed a single, gloved finger at the owl. "I'm not gonna let you in, you know. You can tap all ya want, but I am _not_ letting you in!"

 _TAPTAPTAPTAPTAP_

"No! I won't!" The young-looking man stomped across the room, his heavy boots crunching the carpet of fallen and crumpled papers. "And you know what? I bet I can tap more annoyingly than _you!"_ Taking his glove off, the young-looking man revealed a metal finger. With a furrowed brow and a sneer curling his lips, he tapped just as insistently against the glass as the owl.

The owl jumped at the noise, but it continued it's tapping. In fact, it tapped back twice as hard. The window shook in its frame.

" _Jesus, stop it already! Just let it in!"_ a floating voice inside the young-looking man's head whined. _"You're both giving me a headache."_

"You don't have a head, and _my_ headache stems from the fact that there is an _owl_ here, not the tapping!" he growled, grabbing a fistful of his black hair.

" _But the tapping doesn't help!"_

"Oh, shut it, John," the young-looking man said with a roll of his eyes.

" _Yeah, John!"_ a younger, feminine voice piped up. _"Shut up!"_

" _Don't speak to me like that, miss! You are too young to be using language like that!"_

" _I'm over five hundred years old! If I wanna tell you to shut up, I can! Right, Edward?"_

Edward laughed. "Of course you can! Hell, you can put _fuck_ before and after every word if you fucking want to!"

" _Fucking hell fucking yeah! Fuck!"_

" _Maria! You stop that foul language right now!"_

" _Fuck you, John!"_

"Yeah!" Edward laughed. "Fuck you, John!"

At his yell, the many other voices inside Edward's head came to life, waking up from a long, peaceful, slumber.

Why _they_ had to rest, Edward would never know. It wasn't like they had bodies that could get _fatigued_ or anything.

Edward ignored the hollow pang that echoed in his chest at the thought.

The voices in his head—voices of the victims lost to pure sin and the creation of a Philosopher's Stone—split distinctively into three groups.

One yelled at John to _fucking shut the fucking hell up god fuck._

The second told the others to watch their language.

The last and loudest of the three demanded _everyone_ shut up and go back to sleep so Edward could deal with the stupid owl that was _still pecking the damn window_ and causing the massive migraine that, somehow, now affected all of them.

Edward rubbed his temple with his flesh fingers, groaning. "How about all of you shut the fuck up, because I'm getting pissed at all of you rather than this stupid owl!"

Even after all the years that had passed, Edward couldn't handle when _all those voices_ spoke at once. Echo after echo of too-human remains rung between his ears. Each voice, the actual sound of it forgotten by its owner, sounded just a little off. Too high, too low, with an accent just off enough to notice. One or two? No big deal. Hell, even when five of those voices spoke at once, no headache blossomed.

But when the thousands of them awoke, and all spoke, Edward's head threatened to splinter into a thousand and one pieces. Whether by the insanity that gripped him or just because of the noise itself, he couldn't tell.

Though the voices had settled at his yell, it was too late. Edward tapped a little too hard on the glass with his metal finger. The owl, on the other side of the glass, banged its little beak back so hard, Edward swore it would chip it.

Instead, cracks laced through the glass, and with one accidental last tap, Edward shattered a pane of the window.

"Fuck! Look what you all did!" Edward screamed to his empty room as the owl wiggled through the hole. As it flew over Edward's head, its claws grazed the crown of his head. Edward ducked down just in time before the owl could pull out his black ponytail.

"No, don't respond!" Edward said as the voices rumbled inside his head. He growled under his breath and whipped around, glaring at the owl that now perched on his desk, glaring at him with displeased, yet triumphant, golden eyes.

"Don't look at me like that." Edward stalked back over to his desk and collapsed into his chair. The owl held out its leg to him.

"I already told your _wizards_ to fuck off already," Edward growled. "I ain't gonna open that."

The owl didn't lower its leg. It continued to glare hard at Edward. _I'm just trying to complete my job. Now get this thing off my fucking leg,_ its expression said.

"Fifty years have passed and they still haven't invented mailboxes? They're worst off than I thought?"

The owl blinked slowly.

"You don't know what a mailbox is too. At least you have an excuse. You're an owl." With a single sigh dripping with finality, Edward reached out with his flesh hand. With a gentle touch, he unwound the message from the owl's leg. "Wait one second," he told the bird. Getting up, Edward wandered into the other room, only to return a few minutes later with a bowl of water and bits of meat in a bowl.

"You'll have to stay until night if you wanna catch mice here," Edward said, placing the bowl down.

The owl seemed to huff. After drinking its water and pecking at the proffered meat, it beat its wings, taking back off into the air. Without a second glance back at Edward, it squeezed back into the hole, disappearing from sight into the darkening night.

Edward stared at the message the owl left. It was rolled up, tied with a red ribbon. A name he hadn't used in fifty years, _I scrawled Edwin Eichel_ across it in familiar, swirly handwriting.

"Wizards." Edward spat the word like a curse. "It took you fifty years to find me again? For all the good your _magic_ is that's still a hell of a long time. I think." Edward sighed. From a week to a year, to ten years, to fifty years, all were a drop in the endless bucket of near eternity.

Shaking his head, Edward waited for the discussion about the owl, about him shattering the pane of the window, and then each and every opinion each and every person in his mind had, before snapping the red ribbon with a single metal finger.

Those voices. His souls.

 _No._ He didn't own their souls. Only they themselves owned their souls.

The souls of the Philosopher's Stone residing within his own body finally settled down. From mutterings to mumblings to finally near silence.

 _Near silence._ For over 500 years, thoughts not of Edward's own shared his headspace. Getting all thousands of souls in his head silent was an impossible feat; he had given up on getting them all quite a long ass time ago.

At least now he could ignore the mutterings in the back of his mind as if those voices were nothing but radio static.

Without a single thought, lest he rouse the souls, Edward shook out the message.

Edward cocked a single brow at the dull _thud_ of a gaudy-looking ring that fell onto his desk and at the blank piece of paper he now held pinched between his fingers.

Staring at the strange ring, at its thick copper band and fake blue jewel adorning its center, Edward tilted his head to the side. A small grunt of confusion escaped him.

"What the hell?" Edward asked no one as he dropped the blank piece of paper. Scooping the ring up into his palm, Edward held it up to the lamplight to get a better look at it, peeling away its properties under a scrutinizing gaze to figure out what the ring was for.

As he did so, however, something in the pit of his gut gave a sharp _tug._ Pins and needles pricked his skin. Tingles sparked in his chest, and despite the odd sensations running up and down his spine, a sudden primal rage overtook Edward.

"No! Stop it! Fuck!" But he couldn't drop the ring, couldn't will his hand to turn over and dump it onto the table. Paralyzed, the disgusting and gaudy ring became his center of gravity as his room spun around him. Colors blended together into a water paint smear.

His old "friend," Dumbledore, the bastard himself, had sent him a portkey.

~~0~~0~~0~~

The tangy buzz of magic lay thick in the back of Edward's throat as the spinning colors around him came to a standstill. Smears of brown became the walls while the messy stokes of red and yellow stilled into a roaring fire. The dark blues smoothed into the curling shadows of night, creeping along the wooden floorboards through half-curtained windows.

As soon as Edward's feet slammed into the ground, his legs buckled, and he collapsed into a nearby, well-loved chair. A grunt escaped him as he bounced on the cushions.

Damn portkeys. His stomach twisted itself into knots, and Edward had to swallow the bile gathering in his mouth down.

Instant travel never sat well with him.

And, as always, the souls within his being started chattering to themselves once again.

" _Edward, what's going on? Where are we?"_

" _He doesn't know! Can't you tell?"_

" _He probably has an idea. Let's all calm down so he can think. Edward, dear, are you alright?"_

" _Edward! I'm scared! Is someone going to die? I don't wanna die next!"_

" _Hell no, you won't because if anyone is gonna die in this damn place, it's gonna be_ me!"

" _Don't say that!"_

Edward shook his head viciously from side to side. He shattered the calmness of the room by shouting, "shut up! All of you! I don't know where we are, but no one will die!"

Rubbing his temples with two fingers, Edward scooted to the edge of his chair to stand, but a dark shape from the other side of the room stilled him. Edward's muscles tensed. Alchemical formulae ran through his head. His hands darted up, palms facing one another, ready to clap together. He almost looked as if he were about to pray.

"Edwin—or should I say, Edward—it is good to see you. You haven't changed one bit in fifty years, have you? Besides your hair, of course."

In an instant, Edward's hands fell into his lap. His shoulders slumped. A groan split his lips. "Of fucking course. Why are you just standing there in the shadows? Are you _trying_ to be creepy or something?"

The dark shape chuckled as he slid into the light. Golden light from the fire scattered across his magnificent, wiry, silver beard.

Albus Dumbledore—or _Dumbles,_ as Edward always dubbed him—had changed a lot in the past fifty years. Where youth had once reigned, age had set in, carving deep lines across his forehead, around his eyes, and around his mouth. An odd pair of circular glasses sat on the tip of his crooked nose.

Despite that, he still retained his flowing, starry blue robes, and those clear, sparkling cerulean eyes.

A wide smile stretched Dumbledore's lips. He lowered himself into a second, nearby armchair. "It is good to see you again."

"And it's good to see wizards still don't know what electricity is. Or a lightbulb," Edward shot back, eyeing the room. Besides the roaring golden fire, there was no other light source inside the expansive living room they sat in.

Wherever they were, it wasn't Hogwarts, that for sure.

Dumbledore—the bastard—had the nerve to laugh. "You really haven't changed at all, have you?"

Irritation set in, and Edward ignored the surprised and even joyful mutterings of the souls within him to spit out, "let's cut the fuckin' small talk, all right? I told you we wanted nothing more to do with you or wizards ever again. I thought we had made that _clear."_

The serene happiness melted from Dumbledore's expression, his smile tightening.

" _Looks like you got him, eddy-boy!"_

"Don't call me that," Edward muttered.

Dumbledore tilted his head to the side. "Hmm?"

Edward bit the inside of his cheek. He was too used to being cooped up inside his apartment. At home, the walls never gave him weird looks when he talked out loud.

" _All of you need to settle down,"_ Edward thought. "Nothing," he said out loud. "Why are we here? What do you want now? Also, I think this counts as kidnapping."

"I did not kidnap you, you can get up to leave whenever you wish—"

"Bullshit! We don't even know where we are! So stop dancing around the damn question." Edward slammed his fists onto the arms of his chair. He shot up to his feet. The fire tossed his shadow across Dumbledore's as it leaped happily within its brick cage.

Dumbledore sighed. Weaving his fingers together, he rested his hands on his knee as he stared up at Edward evenly. "I suppose it is best to get to the point in situations like these. Nicholas Flamel is dying, Edward."

Edward's skin prickled as his blood froze. He swore his heart skipped a beat. For half a beat, real silence reigned between his ears. Every soul, the thousands of them that remained, were silent.

Then, another beat passed, and cacophony broke out. Screams and cries, hisses and prayers, all exploded out of the remnants of human life floating inside him. Edward slammed his hands over his ears.

That did nothing to dull the dissonant noise.

 _Nicholas._ Nicholas Flamel. He hadn't heard that name in a long time. The last someone had uttered it to him had been from the man in front of him.

Paralyzed by the pain shooting through his head, Edward screwed his eyes shut tight, pressing his chin into his chest. He gritted his jaw. Even if he wanted to speak, he knew the only noise his lips would produce would be screams.

" _SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP STOP IT STOP IT!"_ Edward thought instead. _"I'LL TAKE CARE OF THIS. HE WON'T HURT ANY OF YOU ANYMORE. PLEASE. PLEASE QUIET DOWN."_

Sniffles replaced the cries. Snarls and whimpering replaced the screaming. Those screamed prayers fell into maniac mutterings but didn't diminish.

Edward wasn't sure how much time had passed since that _utterance_ of _that name._ Within the binds of his own head, time had seemed to stop. With his head still pounding, Edward sat back down, unable to support himself.

The last time had been the final straw for Edward. "Flamel" had been the last word Dumbledore spoke to him till now. Last time, it had taken nearly three hours to calm down the souls within him.

Nicholas Flamel. His poor, wayward apprentice. Nicolas Flamel, a murderous bastard.

"Don't say his name," Edward ground out.

Dumbledore shook his head. "It's just a name, Edward," he murmured, not unkindly. "Nothing to be afraid—"

"Don't. Say. His. Name."

Dumbledore fell silent. Whether out of politeness or discomfort, he looked away, staring past Edward into the fire as Edward regained his grip on himself and his thoughts.

Releasing yet another sigh, Edward blinked slowly, his rapid heartbeat settling. Only after more time had ticked past, the night marching on as the moon rose high in the sky, did Edward straighten himself back up.

His face, schooled into that sneer he had worn before _that name_ had been spoken, appeared uncracked as if it had never shattered in the first place.

Edward cleared his throat, ignoring what had just happened completely. "Everyone dies." He paused. "Everyone _should_ die. It's nothing special."

Dumbledore shook his head, giving Edward a look as if he had overlooked something important. He hesitated.

"I know your relationship with one another is complicated, but Edward, can you please put the past behind yourself and—"

Edward stomped his foot—the metal one—and the jarring noise halted Dumbledore's words.

"Put the past _behind_ myself?! I will once I'm fucking _dead._ That man ruined our life! He's a murderer! A mass murderer! We will _never_ forgive him for what he has done. Never!"

Dumbledore released a long, weary sigh. "He was still _your_ apprentice. Though he has made many bad decisions in his life, he has tried to repent—"

"A bad decision doesn't include murder and repenting means nothing."

"Edward. May I please finish my thoughts first? I have some important news to tell you, some of it regarding a Philosopher's Stone."

Edward's brow twitched, a frown marring his face. For a second, he remained tense, remained ready to jump up and walk out, all wizards be damned.

Then, with an almost inaudible sigh, Edward relaxed back into his armchair. "Well? I'm waiting."

"A while back, Flamel—"

"Dumbledore."

Dumbledore sighed through his nose. "—made a stone, but not one crafted from human life. He created it with high levels of magic instead."

"So it was a fake."

"I suppose so."

Edward relaxed if for half a second. "That's a relief," he grumbled to himself. After learning the truth behind the Philosopher's Stone, Edward would take a fake stone over the genuine and horrible thing any day of the week.

Although Edward tried to prevent his mind from wandering from the task at hand, he couldn't stop the sudden onslaught of his past obsession rearing up to bite him in the ass.

 _A Stone made of magic._ How would such a thing be crafted? How many wizards did it take? What sort of spell—or spells—could exist to craft such a horrifying and sinful object? Most likely, it wasn't even a spell or multiple spells, but a _ritual._

But where did that power originate from…?

The growing disgust spreading throughout the souls within Edward halted his thoughts. As soon as his mind had run amok, shame overtook him. Edward hung his head.

Memories not of his own flashed in Edward's mind. Over a thousand different memories of that fateful, dreary day assaulted him.

Edward had already seen these memories before. He knew what every single soul had been doing the moments before the red light flashed, and their lives had been… _stolen_ and _condensed…._

" _I'm sorry,"_ Edward thought. _"I am so sorry. Old habits die hard, as they say."_

Only a handful of souls rippled with slight laughter at that. Edward's shame deepened into a blackened pit.

The souls were tired of his apologies and apologizing to them tired him in turn.

The sound of Dumbledore's voice broke Edward from his reverie. He blinked, his head snapping up.

"Edward? Did you hear what I said?"

Edward shook his head, cursing himself. Perhaps he had been away from physical human interaction for _too_ long….

"My stupid ex-apprentice made a fake stone. So what?"

Dumbledore shook his head as if he were talking to a young child rather than a man many years his senior. Edward grit his teeth.

"With it, he tried to help many people—"

"And prolonged his own life. He didn't care about those people that's the only goal he—"

"Edward." Dumbledore's calm voice cracked. It was faintly there, if anyone else heard the way he said his name, it would sound as if he were about to hand out a regretful reprimand.

But Edward knew better. He knew _Dumbledore_ better, despite the years.

"I am aware that Nicholas is a touchy subject for you... _all_ of you, and I also understand _your…_ bad past relating to him. But you haven't talked to him in hundreds of years. I ask of you to give me, at the very least, the benefit of the doubt a time gap of hundreds of years could make."

Edward ground his teeth together. The scorn on his face deepened, along with the lines of anger pushing his eyebrows together.

Only the sound of the crackling fire kept the silence between the two at bay.

Eventually, Edward dropped his eyes from Dumbledore's severe expression back to the way the fire tossed his shadow all around the opulent room.

"Fine," Edward muttered. "But if I, _we,_ don't like what we hear, I'm walkin' out of this place. And you won't be able to find us again."

Dumbledore dipped his head. "Very well. Although Nicholas created the Stone, he didn't believe it was safe with him. Dark forces have been gathering in the Wizarding World, Edward."

" _When are they not?"_ one of his souls whispered. Some laughed in agreement; others sighed in exasperation. Edward noted that most of his souls opted to remain silent. He figured they were most likely still disturbed from _that name_ being mentioned so often.

Edward pursed his lips to prevent a quick quip from slipping out.

"He asked me to protect it at Hogwarts. Things… didn't go as planned, however."

Edward cocked a brow at that. "How so?"

"For lack of a better term, Hogwarts was… infiltrated. To protect the Stone, it had to be destroyed."

"He shouldn't have created it in the first place. Even if it didn't cost human lives, no one should have that much power in their hands." Edward's voice dropped into a low mumble. "No human can become God."

 _We are proof of that._ Edward's thoughts reverberated among the souls. They all murmured in agreement.

"I agree." Dumbledore paused, then echoed, "everyone dies."

Edward narrowed his eyes. "Without the Stone, Flamel is dying."

"Yes. And he wants to see you, one last time."

"And so the truth finally reveals itself," Edward hissed. "It always does. That's the real reason for bringing us here. Not to just tell me of a passing."

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, Edward."

Edward tore his eyes from the old wizard to his surroundings once again. He had thought they were, perhaps, in Dumbledore's living quarters. He had never imagined Dumbledore to be a paint sort of person, more of a wallpaper kinda guy, but now that Edward inspected the room he had sat in, he noticed the _tells._

The stretch of bookshelves against the wall, all ordered by _color_ of all things. How new the magical theory books compared to the alchemy books sitting alongside them. How pictures of landscapes hung on the wall rather than pictures of family or friends. Hell, even the lack of a rug on the hardwood floors should have clued Edward in on where they all were.

"Where's Flamel?" Edward growled.

Dumbledore didn't point. He didn't stand up from his seat. He barely twitched. Yet, his eyes shifted to the right, glancing down the short hallway.

Edward had no words for Dumbledore. He stood and left through the hallway.

Edward tightened his hands into fists as he ducked out of Dumbledore's sight. He bit the inside of his cheek _hard,_ narrowing his eyes into slits, glaring at the cracked door at the end of the hallway.

A faint glimmer of golden light leaked from the slim crack.

Inside him, the souls shifted. They wriggled and squirmed and many fought against moving forward.

As soon as Edward took another step down the hallway, the screaming resumed.

Edward shot his right arm out. His metallic fingers dug into the wall as he held himself up. His splitting migraine returned, cracking his brain in two. With his flesh hand, Edward cupped his face, refusing to let a groan slip past his lips.

The souls begged. They begged for him to turn around, to leave this horrid house. They begged for him to return to Germany, or perhaps even go back to America. Go far, far far away as far away as he could get from the man— _monster—_ bedbound at the end of the hallway.

Edward shook his head at their cries and their toothless threats.

" _If he's really dying, I have to check. I have to make_ sure."

Numerous voices replied to him.

" _He's the one who_ did _this to us! He should have died a long time ago-!"_

" _He had no right to live_ this _long."_

" _Nothing he could do can forgive_ this _sin."_

Edward agreed with every spat statement, every bristled snarl. Every nasty insult, petty sneer, and angry cry caused Edward to nod his head in understanding. Yet, underneath those countless souls spewing fire, underneath the torrent of reopened scabs and scars, the tinny voice of Maria touched him.

" _But we aren't the only ones who lost everything!"_ the little girl cried out. Though she lacked a body, though she lacked any sensation and touch, Edward could still hear her cries in her voice.

It broke his heart. It warmed his insides.

" _Edward has suffered just as much as we have! And if he needs to— to confront_ him, _then he_ should." Maria said nothing about herself, but Edward could _feel_ her desperate need of confrontation in the pit of her soul.

He feared to speak of what he _felt_ needed to be done. Maria felt the same. And they weren't alone. Many souls—hundreds and thousands—hungered to face the man who did this to them. They yearned to face the creature that could rip lives away without a second thought for himself, only to burden his sin on the one doing all he could to stop him.

Those standing beside him, those supporting him both with words and without, brought a touch of gratefulness to Edward. He closed his eyes, bathing in the warm sensation that started in the pit of his heart and spread outward. He dared a small smile to grace his lips.

"Thank you," he whispered so quietly, only the souls could hear him. Dropping his arm back to his side, Edward continued down the hallway without incident.

As soon as his flesh fingers met the wood of the door, the simmering voices in his being absconded into silence.

A study engulfed half the bedroom. The desk was a little cleaner than Edward's own. Bookshelves stuffed with knowledge and trinkets of all kind surrounded the bed sitting beneath the window.

The emaciated man laid beneath a blanket of moonlight. The weight of the wrinkles obscured his beady black eyes. All his hair had fallen out, leaving nothing but a bald head with plenty of spotting behind.

Without his Stone, even a fake, Nicholas had transformed into looking his _actual_ age. Edward feared to even breathe _near_ his wayward ex-student in fear he would turn to dust.

Underneath the folded skin, Nicholas grinned. It stretched too wide. His black eyes disappeared behind several sagging flaps of skin. When Nicholas parted his thin lips, a toothless black hole met Edward. The words that seeped from the decrepit man were mere wispy whispers.

Edward had to lean in to hear him.

Nicholas repeated himself, weak and faint coughs underlining each word. "It's… it's good to see you aga- again, sir."

Edward paused, waiting for a reaction from the souls within his Stone, but they all remained quiet. The shocking silence ringing between his ears chilled Edward.

"I can't say the same, Nicholas," Edward growled. He crossed his arms, looming over Nicholas like Death himself.

Nicholas sighed, turning his sights out the window and into the murky night. "I know." A sigh seeped from him, and he shook his head. "It's… hard to look- look at you. You haven't changed a- a single bit."

Edward's eye twitched but dismissed the assumed slight at his height. "That's no thanks to you." Edward gulped, the tense awkwardness stringing the two together too much to bear. Locking his jaw, Edward ground out, "And I assume, if it wasn't for the destruction of your fake Stone, you would be as lively as ever, wouldn't you?"

Nicholas, already as still as death, froze. "You would be correct."

Clenching his hands into fists, Edward hissed, "how did you do it? How did you create a _second_ Philosopher's Stone? Why? Even after what you did to all of Europe, you _still_ craved immortality?"

"Edward, _please._ You speak of- of old matters." Nicholas swung his gaze back around. The slight warmth that had been bubbling in his eyes had cooled down.

"Old matters my _ass._ And you _will_ answer my questions." Edward glowered down at Nicholas, his nails digging into his flesh palm harder, carving half-moon crescents.

Nicholas broke under his old teacher's stare.

"Albus said you created it from magic," Edward pressed.

"That I did. It took no- no lives. I created it from mag- magical energy, press- pres- pressurized and condensed into a s- single point." Nicholas shook his head. "It took- took countless magical re- resources, countless years, and- and even then, this stone—the _Sorcerer's Stone—_ cannot com- compare to the _real_ Phil- Philosopher's Stone."

Edward sighed but refused to fall lax. "So it was a fake."

Nicholas narrowed his eyes. "I would not- not call it a fake. Mer- merely different. I know you th- thought I had died a long- long time ago—"

 _"We_ had. Until that loon sitting out in your living room offered to introduce us."

Nicholas winced. "Yes, I- I recall him telling me about you."

"And you told him everything."

"Not everything." Nicholas was quick and sharp to correct him. "He would have- have figured it out anyway—"

Edward shook his head. "We don't understand how _that man_ out there can call you his _friend_ even after knowing what you did."

"He is a- a wonderful friend," came Nicholas' reply.

"He's insane, that's what. Like how most you wizards are." Edward huffed, peeling his eyes away from Nicholas to stare out the window. "If you could destroy the Stone so easily, it was a fake. A knock-off Philosopher's Stone."

Nicholas grunted at that remark. "Discussing the- the Stone isn't the only rea- reason I requested Albus to br- bring you here, you kn- know." Nicholas fell into a small coughing fit. Edward waited it out.

"So why else did you bring us here? To look at how your _handiwork_ has been—"

"No!" Nicholas snapped. For the first time since Edward engaged with the man, real anger seeped into his voice. "I wanted to- to see how you were _faring,_ I- I wanted to see- see _you,_ Edward, one last ti- time. And— and I wanted to ask- ask a favor."

Edward's hard gaze fell back on Nicholas. The silvery moonlight painted stark shadows within the folds of his face. However, even within that ink, Edward could see desperation etched into Nicholas' expression. His lipless mouth hung open with his slug of a tongue poking out. Those beady black eyes, shining with exhaustion, gripped Edward's, begging him without words to _listen_ for once in his _goddamn life…._

Edward released a long sigh. He dropped his arms back to his sides. He closed his eyes, listening to the quiet, inquisitive murmurs of the braver souls in the back of his mind.

Edward opened his eyes. "As you can see, _I_ am doing fine. _We_ all are. What favor do you want from me?"

Nicholas' entire being glowed with gratitude. A lopsided grin twisted the hole of his mouth. "Oh, it's a small matter, really! Have you heard of a young wizard known as Harry Potter?"

Edward wracked his brain, but he had no recollection of that name. He shook his head. "No. I have not kept up with the Wizarding World."

"That- that doesn't surprise me. Harry Potter is… is… well, well he is an important figure in our world—"

" _Your_ world," Edward quickly corrected.

Nicholas shook his head. "The Wiz- Wizarding World. He defeated the dark- dark lord known as Vold- Voldemort—"

Edward snorted and muttered something about "batshit wizard names." Nicholas elected to ignore him a second time.

"During his first y- year at Hogwarts, he- he not only helped pro- protect the Sorcerer's Stone from e- evil, but refused to- to use it. Albus told me that- that he asked for- for it to be des- destroyed."

Edward narrowed his eyes in thought. "So a kid who actually has a decent head on his shoulders. What about him?"

"Don't be- be so flip- flippant, _sir_."

Edward's cheeks colored with red at that _cursed title._ "Nicholas-"

"You- you know better than- than anyone else that any- any _normal_ person would- would desire the Stone for- for their own gains. And- and furthermore, _use_ it."

Edward cursed at that, raking his fingers through his hair. "So this kid is better than me and a whole hell better than _you._ What do you _want_ from _me?"_

"Harry Po- Potter is a child. And his fame in- in _my_ world _will_ bring forth not just- just friends, but _enemies_ t- too." Nicholas sighed. Somehow, he seemed to melt further into his mattress. His breaths gained weight, the heave of his words rattling inside his bony chest.

Edward twitched but could not bring himself to help the man— _monster—_ in front of him.

"I have… have no time… left. I ask of you to- to protect him. Harry Potter. That child. Protect him from- from the wiz- wizard- _my_ world."

Nicholas gulped. "Sorry, I am… tired." He fell into another coughing fit. Unable to summon the strength to even cover his mouth, Edward watched Nicholas hack black dust onto himself.

"So this is your last request, huh? You have nerve to ask _anything_ from me. _Us."_

Nicholas found himself unable to answer through his coughs.

Edward shook his head. "We will… think about your request. _I'm_ not the only one in this body— _life—_ of mine anymore." He hesitated, almost willing to grasp Nicholas' hand in a limp handshake. Instead, Edward kept his hands loose at his sides and dipped his head.

Nicholas' coughing fit ended, and he laid limp in his bed. His eyes didn't open, but from his mouth, weaker words than before leaked out. Edward nearly didn't catch them.

"Thank… you…. And- and Edward… b- by the way… you- you looked much better with bl- blond hair." Nicholas snorted, and his body stilled.

Edward turned away with the softest of grunts, refusing to watch the emancipated body of his wayward apprentice collapse into dust.

"Goodnight, you bastard."

~~0~~0~~0~~

Dumbledore stood as Edward slinked from the darkened hallway and into the fiery light of the living room. Clutching his robes in his hands, he hurried over to Edward as he stood at the mouth of the corridor.

"Well?" Dumbledore prompted, staring at Edward imploringly. His clear blue eyes lacked their typical twinkle. Rather, darkened worry had set into them.

Edward merely shook his head. "Did you know what Nicholas would ask of me?" The slight tremor of his voice told Dumbledore all he needed to know what had just happened.

Dumbledore closed his eyes and allowed himself a small, yet lengthy sigh. He nodded once. "I had an idea. What did he ask of you?"

Edward kept his intense eyes pinned on Dumbledore, unblinking and unwavering. Any weaker man would have crumbled under his gaze.

Dumbledore met the stare with ease.

"He asked me to watch over some kid. Harry Potter."

Dumbledore nodded once, a soft hum seeping from him. "I see. Harry Potter is quite an important boy in the Wizarding World-"

"I was told," Edward said.

Dumbledore regarded Edward coolly. "So what will you be doing now, Edward?"

Edward released a long sigh, shaking his head. He ruffled his own black locks with one of his hands, musing his ponytail. "Oh, I have _no_ idea. We will have to think about it. Cast a vote if you will."

"Very well." Dumbledore paused for half a second, the gears in his head clicking away. Edward could almost _hear_ his thoughts.

"If your conclusion is a positive one, will you owl me?" Dumbledore asked.

One of Edward's brows cocked up at that. "And why would _you_ need to know?"

A wry smile threatened to crack Dumbledore's pressed lips. "Why, because Harry Potter spends most of his year at Hogwarts, of course."

Edward cursed at that. He hadn't forgotten that Potter was just a _wizard kid,_ but his brain hadn't quite connected that fact to Hogwarts _yet,_ still reeling from the appearance of Flamel barely an hour ago.

"Dumbledore, don't tell me—"

"Hogwarts is always open to you, Edward Elric."

Edward waved Dumbledore off. "Oh, don't start all that! We haven't decided _yet!"_

But, by Dumbledore's smile, Edward knew _Dumbledore knew,_ he kinda had. He cursed the man more.

With a roll of his eyes, Edward stomped past Dumbledore toward the open, roaring fire. He crossed his arms as he stared into the leaping, crackling flames.

"Just take me home, you bastard."

A small chuckle slipped from Dumbledore, and his aged hand brushed Edward's back.

"As you wish, Edward. And thank you."

~~0~~0~~0~~

 **I wanna note that tho this fic is a LOT more recent that the original chapter, I _did_ start rewriting this mid-2018 and didn't finish it (including editing it...) until early 2019. **

**The original was written in 2014. This version was written in 2018/19, making it a 4/5 year difference in writing. The original was also written when I was 16. I, as of writing this A/N, am 21.**

 **I don't wanna give hope to people that I will rewrite the entire fic, at least not at the moment. I actually did recently reread at least the entire first part of this fic (I was bored at work, sue me), and rewriting it would be... a lot of work. I also say that since I had _once_ said I was _going_ to rewrite it, got as far as a very weak and rough outline, struggled a _lot_ with pacing the events and brainstorming new events and plotlines, and ended up dropping the fic for _sure._**

 **That being said, in my reread of this fic it brought back a _lot_ of nostalgia. I also still think I had some pretty interesting ideas and concepts in this fic! I just don't think I executed them very well. Furthermore, some of the chapters and things I wrote I think were a little tone-deaf and silly. I forgot how much fun I had writing this fic and I forgot just how freakin' _fun_ these sorts of crossovers are? One thing rewriting this fic and rereading my own fic did was make me wanna write _different_ things for this type of crossover (my friend tempting me to do so also does not help...) but whether I will actually like... do that is a completely different story. (I'm still working on original content, after all, and some other fanfiction stuff for different fandoms... including a rewrite of a completely different fic) **

**To continue with trend of my A/Ns are horribly long and rambling, below I am going to provide a rough... essay? Changelog? Of my thoughts I had while rewriting this first chapter.**

 **Anyways, from here down it's gonna be the changelog and my own personal thoughts. They may be interesting to some of you? I don't know, you don't have to read them if you don't want to.**

 **Either way, I hope this one chapter rewrite wasn't too bad? I have no idea what I am doing I cannot stress that enough. Anyways, thank y'all SO MUCH for reading and putting up with my bs for Literally Years! Drop a review, if you'd like, or a favorite.**

 **(and if i do ever decide to rewrite this damn thing... if my friend convinces me somehow... i will update this fic and continue on from this chapter. sound good? but don't get your hopes up i am not a dependable person at _all_ )**

* * *

 **Changelog**

So, beginning this was just a _pain._ I ended up dropping the flashback format completely, mainly 'cause I figured I could just reveal Edward's past through dialogue and tidbits rather than relying on a tired and cliche literary device I don't particularly like anymore. Another reason was cause in the original fic, I ended up losing a lot of steam for the flashbacks and I felt they didn't really add onto Edward's character in a unique or interesting way. Instead, I decided I'd start this fic with one of my favorite quotes of all time... which is also incredibly fitting for some of the themes of this fic and Edward himself.

Now, the _actual_ beginning of this fic was also hard to write. I still hate that opening paragraph. It sounds _so_ clunky and awkward. But I wanted to have a similar opening to the original fic. Plus, I couldn't figure out any better wording? I dunno. The way I write now, I like to either start my projects with setting up the scene, snappy dialogue, or pure action. Here, I just couldn't really pin down how to start this rewrite. I honestly think the opening paragraph is the worst bit of writing in this entire rewrite.

A huge point I noticed while reading the original chapter was the fact that there was a _lot_ of infodumping... Edward complaining about wizards, Edward complaining about the wizarding world, and it ended up divulging into rambles in the writing. I _am_ a rambly person... quite clearly... but as a writing I am trying my best to clean up my rambles. I tend to overwrite nowadays, and I do think at points I overwrote in this opening chapter, but I also wanted to include all the important plot beats of the original chapter in this one AND expand on them as well, which is why this version is almost double the length of the original. If I wasn't trying to hit all the plot beats, I would have cut the chapter off after Edward tells Nicholas goodbye.

Rather than have Edward complain to the reader about wizards, I figured I should have him talk to someone about it. Here, it's the owl and Dumbledore.

Another point I changed is what Edward is called in the opening chapter. In the original, Edward's real name isn't revealed until the end, and throughout he is called "Edwin" complete with parenthesis. Believe it or not, I STILL remember a user or two in a review complaining it was annoying for them to read. Personally, I dislike the style choice now as well, tho it didn't annoy me to read. It also reads as a plothole as later in the fic, it's reveled that Dumbledore met Edward when he was a kid and although Edward _did_ use a fake name there too (iirc...) I feel after so many years, Edward would have given Dumbledore his _real_ name. I like the idea that they have a complicated relationship where they aren't _friends_ per se, but they aren't enemies either. They mutually help one another out for their own benefit, I imagine, in the lore of this series.

One relationship I don't think I did enough fleshing out Nicholas originally. In the original, he reads as a literal plot device. Besides being introduced and dying in the first chapter, he doesn't seem to have _that_ much of an affect on Edward. Yes, many years have passed since then, but Edward is reminded of him either way. Plus, with Alchemy being taught in Hogwarts, I think I should have written in students mentioning him more to Edward, and him overall having more of a presence in this story. Along with being a plot device, he had little personality and character, so I tried to give him a bit more here, while also trying to edge the line of whether he is a monster or a man. The concept of Nicholas I have here is an interesting one (I think?) and honestly, it could easily be explored in its own fic (including Edward and Nicholas' entire relationship and meeting...) but I digress. My aim here, with Nicholas, in how I describe and characterize him, is to have readers for themselves decide on whether the fact he feels regret and wants to repent for his actions mean anything in the greater scheme of the universe. Likewise, if what he did could even be _forgiven._ It's not brought up in this chapter, as I couldn't fit it in, but I imagine as part of Nicholas' reasoning is the fact that he probably did have something against the muggle population for persecuting wizards, and using the logic that the black death was going to kill everyone anyways, to at least give their lives _meaning_ and have them part of something _greater_ than themselves rather than rotting away.

This is a very messed up way of thinking, for sure, but I see Nicholas, in this fic at least, being a fucked up guy with fucked up morals.

Another point of this rewrite was including more reaction of the souls. I remember getting a _lot_ of reviews on KaP on how much everyone loved the stuff with the souls and how they interacted with Edward, so I wanted to show that here as well. Likewise, I also wanted to craft, at least, a few characters within the Stone that Edward actually talks to that could be reoccurring OCs. I couldn't go too overboard here, since it is just one chapter, but I wanted to introduce the concept stronger and a lot more here. I also think it gives Edward more credence as that "eccentric and loony Alchemy professor" if he seemingly talks to himself, refers to himself as more of a collective than just himself (though I have no idea how well I implemented that here...), and etc. There's probably even more ideas and potential in that idea than I've thought of up here, too!

Although I did change quite a lot of stuff here, I kept a lot the same too. The opening and the amount of scenes and the plot beats remain the same for the most part. Edward getting tricked to traveling to Dumbledore is the same as well. I did change them so they end up at Nicholas' house rather than Hogwarts, tho, as there was a bit of a plothole with Dumbledore and Edward traveling to Nicholas' from Hogwarts. Edward agreeing to the promise (more or less...) also remains the same, Nicholas dying, the differences between the Philosopher's Stone and Sorcerer's Stone, and Edward being an angry shorty also all remain the same. Edward having his current fake name, Edwin, is referenced, as well as him having black hair rather than golden hair, as although Dumbledore and Nicholas know his real identity, he is living as Edwin in the muggle world atm. Edward having automail is kept the same here, too (though, if I ever go back to rewrite this fic, I will be changing that, sadly... I just can't stretch my imagination enough to see Edward _somehow_ keeping his automail in-tact for literally hundreds of years. Sorry, Winry, your work is amazing, but Edward is disaster-prone and likes breaking things).

Another change I made was Dumbledore's nickname, Dumbles. I still like that nickname as I fell it is in-character for Edward to nickname him something silly like that. However, while rewriting this, I felt the narration calling Dumbledore "Dumbles" was too comedic and broke the tone of most these scenes, so I merely kept it as a noted line, but continued calling Dumbledore by his full name throughout most this chapter.

Although I think this rewrite is LOADS better than the original, it still has a lot of issues I think. I probably overwrote it... as I am prone to doing... the opening paragraph isn't that great either. I also fear at points I had Dumbledore and Nicholas repeat themselves and each other... but I didn't wanna go back and rewrite all that dialogue so I am keeping it as is!

Overall, I am quite happy with this rewrite. And who knows... if I keep wanting to rewrite this stupid chapter maybe in another 5 years I'll come back to this, call this cringy and bad, and rewrite it all over again! (Okay I probably won't... but who knows!) If I do, hopefully I'll come with a better opening paragraph, either way.

Oh, and one last major change from the old version to this one is that I actually reread this version a couple times and actually did some basic grammar and spelling edits. It's not as thoroughly edited as I edit my original works... but I think it's good enough for fanfiction for sure.

Either way, I am happy with the changes I made, and feel this rewrite was an overall success. Likewise, taking a second to look back at my old writing was actually fun. It was nice seeing my roots and seeing how some staples and points of my writing... how some stylistic choices I had... actually remained similar or evolved into something better! Overall, this was a great learning experience, I think.

If you actually read all this rambling shit and this entire changelog, I will admit I am impressed and flattered! I know most authors don't write about their thought process or writing process, so I think this little glimpse into my thoughts was at the very least, somewhat interesting!

Thanks for reading, y'all, and I hope you all enjoyed!


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